Moments in Nova Scotia History

Disclaimer - all photos on today's post were taken with my Samsung Note 8, SOC no editing.  And kind of off-the-cuff.  Can't wait to share the stuff I got with the Nikon and Sony!

Today, I was treated to a warmer day again, although still the brooding clouds.  Somewhat fitting for the places we hope to go.  But first, I need to extol the virtues of the amazing food I've been treated to - besides halibut cheeks.  Don't knock 'em till you've tried 'em.  Down east cooking is down home cooking, and my hostess, the beautiful Ann of Ann & Brian's Ocean View B&B loves to cook, makes things from scratch (usually without a recipe) and a lot of stuff gets cooked on her woodstove in their living room behind the kitchen (that most guests are not privvy to - I feel honoured and blessed to have shared wine and time with them in such a cozy place!) 

This morning, breakfast was started by Brian, in his cook's hat and apron no less, and was a platter of vanilla yogurt, fresh fruit cut in bite-size pieces and granola.  That would have been enough for me, but then Ann came along and made blueberry pancakes and sausages!  Whaaaat?  Who on earth can eat all this food?  So it's a good thing we're planning to take advantage of the non-rainy weather and go see the cliffs of New Waterford, and maybe some crashing waves.  Maybe a good hike will help wear all these extra calories off!

It was a wee bit disappointing, as the ocean remained quite calm, considering the storm from last night.  I do manage to get some cool perspective shots of a bit of seaweed, and a gorgeous driftwood log that almost blends in with the rusty shale rocks that the cliffs seem to be mostly made of.  No wonder the cliffs deteriorate at about a foot per year.  I can always come back later, but I do want to see the Low Point Lighthouse and the Stone Church while it's not raining, so off we go.

First the church, which I saw briefly on our way to tof he B&B from the airport after I arrived in NS.  I fell in love then, as my heart seems permanently tied to the plight of old churches that have not been maintained, and that we are in danger of losing because of it.  Churches are such a unique piece of architecture - each one is custom designed and built, and is sacred to many people.  That alone should make them a prime candidate for love and care.  They have always represented community, faith and honour (I know, they have also been less than honourable, but that is because of people that attached themselves to them, not because of the building itself!).

 The first image in this post is the Stone Church, and I sense that even though it was "saved" at the last minute from being demolished by the diocese in order to sell the land (the church apparently has still not learned the lessons it teaches re: money), it may not see another century.  I caress the walls and windows by capturing the light reflecting from it in my cameras, noticing that every window has been dedicated to the memory of someone in a carved stone plaque above it.  Even so, a couple of the windows are in danger from being broken, their protective plexiglass having been broken into pieces first.  It is as though the grand lady has aged rapidly and is literally falling apart.  Soon I will share a longer story, but for now, she sits sadly, watching the ocean for someone to come and save her.

The next stop is Fort Petrie, at one time a stalwart line of defense against the invading German submarines.  Where once stood proud cannons and live tanks and troops, now is a small, rusting and crumbling, locked building, the armoury in sad state of disrepair, the original sign in tatters and leaning against the outside wall of what appears to be a storage shed, and the gunnery on the cliff - now littered with litter and graffiti of human skulls and cupid's hearts.  Another painted sign on the storage shed is of poppies, and "Lest We Forget", a grim prophecy that appears to have become reality - the community has indeed forgotten. 

The Low Point Lighthouse is relatively small, considering the amount of coastline it has to protect ships from.  As for most lighthouses these days, it is automated, the light always moving, always on.  It has no way of entering (it would probably be covered in graffiti and broken in no time in this harsh, forgetting place), but is clean and has a fairly new-ish coat of paint.  It seems to be newer than some I've seen, but there is also the remnants of other buildings that must have stood there at one time and did not withstand the test of.... whatever.  A weird, very tall, concrete "table" for lack of a better word, and the concrete floor of what looks like it may have been a small building of some kind. 

Below the lighthouse at the bottom of the shale cliffs is the remnants of a wharf that must have served for a very long time.  No one is around now, but this was at one point (you can tell) a very solidly built wharf.  The wood is still solid for the most part, and yet it has been replaced with a concrete wharf a bit further away.  The ocean bottom must not have been forgiving enough in this place.  The sky, calm seas, and structure provide me with several minutes of entertainment, as I ponder how much of our past - in Nova Scotia and everywhere else - seems to be disposable, instead of being the wealth of knowledge and experience we should be making it.

The last stop of the morning is the Colliery Lands - the site of the old coal mines, where 4 mines were once both the primary employer of the area, and most prolific murderer.  There is a huge memorial that lists hundreds of men over more than a hundred years that have lost their lives to provide homes with heat.  These should be revered as much as those who gave their lives to protect the country, but we rarely hear about them.  We see the tiny little rail cars that shoved dozens of men into the bowels of the earth, deep below the sunlight , and Ann tells me of the members of her family that were in those cars. 

The afternoon is spent reviewing the photos on my cameras, then going alone back to the cliffs of New Waterford to play with waves (which are now a bit more interesting) and birds (tiny shore birds running about frantically, stabbing the rocks for tiny bits of food with the long slender beaks).  and when it starts to rain, I give up and wander back to the B&B to dry off and relax for a bit while Ann makes fish cakes in a cast iron frying pan on the woodstove.  Seriously.  Right? 

I feel like I have spent the whole day transported back in time to a place that is unrecognizable to me, and from what I saw, mostly to the next generations.  Let us hope that wiser heads prevail and that we are able to teach the younger generation about how we and our ancestors lived, so that the adults of the future do not make the same mistakes.